


Liminal Spaces

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [22]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Gentle Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pre-Star Fox Assault, Romance, Sensuality, Sparring, War Buddies to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 08:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19314496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: 9 ALW - As the denizens of Sargasso party into the night, Wolf slips out to clear his head.





	Liminal Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month!
> 
> Been trying to branch out into other genres and I feel like my romance writing needs some work. So have some Woleon lovey-dovey stuff!

            Sargasso never slept.  Not like it used to in the beginning days.  The lights stayed on, brimming like artificial stars overhead—so bright their reflection blotted out the vacuum of space that lurked just beyond their laser-proof windows.  As Meteo’s shambling contents drifted around the red-painted station, Sargasso’s interior was home to another night of sleepless gambling and partying.  Its upper floors were clogged with the villainy that had set up residence—an assortment of ex-Venomian soldiers, displaced pirates, and vagabonds without a home to return to thanks to Corneria’s brutish colonization efforts.  As the drinks kept flowing even into the wee hours of 3 a.m. station time and the gambling’s noise rose into a blend of raucous triumphant roars and the raging screams of defeat, it was a wonder their position was not given away by any snooping Cornerian patrols.  As high-tech as their cloaking device was, it could do little to blot out sound—especially if one of the races upstairs devolved into a fistfight.

            Three beers and a whiskey had Wolf O’Donnell feeling perhaps too sentimental to join in on the festivities.  Slipping down the elevator, he let the heavy chatter get blocked out by the thick metal doors.  Muscle memory from his fingers tapped the 2nd floor button and he felt the elevator move to his bidding.  The thick burn of alcohol still dancing on his tongue, the mercenary lord let his gaze soften with somewhat-tired thoughts.  The days lately were enough to wear him out physically but his mind still clamored with its ceaseless slideshow of ideas, reflections, and memories.  Thumbs slung into his black, leather belt, his ears swiveled only at the cheery “bing” of the elevator arriving at its destination.  The doors slid open and he found himself in a world entirely unlike the blaring loud bar upstairs. 

            The bass from their music still pulsed like an excited heartbeat, but otherwise, the lower docks were peaceful.  A shipment lifted from Macbeth sat in a pile, each side of the crates all bearing the proud insignia of the Cornerian Empire.  Wolf thought to tire his mind out by counting their recent most loot, but something about the notion grinded against his emotions like an unoiled machine.  His sigh was caustic, irate with energy that did not know how to displace itself.  He tucked his hands into his armpits, crossing his arms over his broad shoulder.  The collar of his violet jacket jabbed into his chin and he tried to smooth it out with the side of his jaw unsuccessfully.  It jabbed him again and he let out another sigh—this one coated with the traces of a growl in his breath.  He turned and stalked away from the crates, one of his chipped ears flitting back with boiling annoyance.

            Couldn’t sleep.  Didn’t want to work.  What did he want? 

            A flight sounded good but his Wolfen was still in repairs after their last mission.  A tango with the military tech on Macbeth had left his ship sans a wing and with an impressive scorch mark down the nose of its hull.  He sighed—the engineer claimed it would be fixed in a few days, but Wolf loathed the idea of his wings being clipped.  It dawned on him that Andrew’s Wolfen still sat untouched in the hanger but he could not bring himself to even look at it for more than a few fleeting seconds.  There were still… feelings about the simian’s departure.  Feelings that Wolf himself thought better off shoved into a compartment and never touched again. 

            Wandering from the crates and towards a walkway on the Sargasso’s east side, Wolf heard a particularly loud cheer from upstairs.  Someone must have won—which, by default, meant that some people had lost.  The corners of his mouth twisted upwards in a knowing smirk, glad he was not there to break up whatever fight was sure to break out.  He walked close enough to feel the cold that seeped through the glass.  Wolf let his right hand extend, gently caressing the chilled window as he stared out at the drifting meteors outside.  Ears still ringing from the ruckus upstairs, he savored the quiet that the lower decks provided when the partying got a little _too_ rowdy for his tastes.  His claws tapped the glass and he listened to its high-pitched, staccato notes.  It was thrilling sometimes to think about how only a few layers of glass separated him from the cold, lethal embrace of space.  A few well-placed smart bombs could have opened the entire wall up if their defenses went down.  Everything and everyone within that open set of decks would be whisked away to a cold death…

            Footsteps.  His ears turned a split-second before he glanced over his left shoulder, searching.  The soft patter of boots upon the metal ground ceased and Wolf could only hear the gentle exhale of his own breath.  He glanced back outside, watching a few meteors collide in the far distance.  Their crash splintered off innumerable smaller meteors, which took their positions in the convoluted web of floating rock outside. 

            The footsteps again.  This time, Wolf knew better than to turn around.

            “Leon,” Wolf said to the empty room.  The footsteps were familiar—he had known their pattern for years now.  They gave him a quiet joy. “I know you’re there.”

            Leon was always there.  He had been since the day they had met in Chasma Penitentiary.  Once, Wolf had thought the lizard’s clinginess to be odd.  But the years had changed his mind and the lizard’s presence was like a welcomed sigh of relief.  If there was anyone he could count on, it was Leon. 

            “You’re far from the party, Lord O’Donnell.  Is something amiss?” Leon spoke quietly.  He made no effort to hide his steps now, striding towards the canine with a straightened posture.  He stopped a few feet away.

            “You don’t have to call me that, you know,” Wolf replied.  He looked back at the reptile.  “I just let the soldiers do it because it teaches ‘em their place.”

            “Is my place not beneath you?” Leon asked with a curious head-tilt.

            Wolf snorted, refraining from making a lewd joke. He side eyed his second-in-command.  He hated when Leon did that—it made him look so naïve, so innocent.  So _very much everything the lizard was not._   Wolf tried not to smile.  He succeeded… mostly.

            “You’re… different.”

            “And that means…?”

            “It just means… you’re different.”

_Smooth._

            “Cannot say I understand that any better, but I digress… _Lord O’Donnell_ … rolls of the tongue nicely, that’s for sure,” Leon remarked lightly.  He drew even closer, standing alongside Wolf, keeping to his right.  He had learned long ago that the canine grew most annoyed if people chose to converse with him while speaking on his left side.  The reptile’s hands rested on his thin hips as he glanced out at Meteo.

            Silence befell them—not a terribly uncommon occurrence when they were alone together.  They did not always need to share words.  Being within each other’s presence was enough to speak volumes at times.  Sometimes, there was simply nothing to say between the two.  A thousand crises had taught them each other’s body language.  They had spilled blood together, killed together, flown together for years now—sometimes it felt like they had exhausted every topic.  For reasons Wolf did not understand, the lack of conversation did nothing to make it feel awkward.  They simply existed next to each other, savoring that warm sensation of security that had blossomed over the cruel years.

            He thought to ask Leon what had lured him away from the hubbub upstairs.  Was it a distaste for the loud noise?  Was his stomach turning at the thought of more alcohol?  His violet eye cast a brief gander upon Leon, feeling his heart stir with curiosity—had Leon seen him slip out?  No.  Deep down, Wolf knew the reason why.

            They existed in liminal spaces—they had for some time, especially after Pigma and Andrew left.  They never spoke about it; their bodies did the talking.  A soft touch on the shoulder.  A wink.  A smile that lasted too long.  Simply wanting to _be_ next to each other.  Wolf had never meant to fuel it but he found himself doing it out of feelings he had spent many years strangling. Somehow, they always revived themselves.  Wolf hated it.  He hated his own duality, his inner arguments.  Business needed to stay business.  Flings needed to stay flings.  And anything beyond a fling was out of the question.  No matter how many times he caught Leon’s pining eyes looming after him.  No matter how many times he caught the lizard shadowing him.  No matter how many years they spent together in that liminal space.  It could never grow, never evolve—Wolf O’Donnell told himself he would not allow it.

            _This is just the way it has to be._

            “We received a message from a station near Sector Beta,” Leon interrupted the silence.  Uncertainty cloaked his voice, giving it a slight waver.  Wolf side-eyed him, cocking a white brow at the reptile.  Leon seemed to be chewing on his next words, selecting them with utter care.  When he spoke, his voice dropped into an even softer tone.  “It looks like Andrew’s building on Fortuna.  He’s gotten quite the army amassed.”

_Is it here?  The second Lylat Wars?  Andrew was as green as green gets in this business.  But there’s something about him that surpassed every expectation anyone had for him.  Maybe he does stand a chance.  Regardless, this is my home now.  We’ve got a good operation going on here.  Can’t risk it all dealin’ with the Cornerians.  Not again._

            “Is that right?” Wolf remarked, realizing his second-in-command was waiting for a reply.  The last remnants of a budding relationship were mercilessly flushed out of his mind. “Good for him.  Any more applications?”

            “Nothing noteworthy,” Leon answered sadly. “Panther was… a lucky find.”

            “We’ll have to keep lookin’.  I wanna fill our fourth spot before we take on any more big missions,” Wolf replied.  “Gotta be able to go toe-to-toe with Star Fox and we’re down one man as is.”

            “You think we’ll run into them again?” Leon asked.

            “It’s inevitable,” Wolf shrugged. “Gotta be prepared for it.”

_Raids on Macbeth are one thing.  Hitting major targets… that’s another.  If we wanna keep this place going, we gotta make sure we’re pulling in enough income to sustain everybody here.  Hungry people become disgruntled people.  And disgruntled people take up arms.  I guess I could order some of the goons on some more missions but half of them are too boozed up to even hold their blaster steady these days.  I should polish them up some, make them piss themselves and realize how lazy they’ve become…_

            “You never answered my first question,” Leon pointed out. 

            “Whaaaa-?  Oh.  I just got tired of all the yellin’, I guess.  Needed some air, some time to think,” Wolf replied.  “I’d go to my quarters but the idea of starin’ at those walls makes me wanna scream.  Just restless.  Wish I could fly.”

            “You could take my ship…” Leon suggested.

            “Nah, thanks though.  I just need to let loose a bit.  Get some energy out,” Wolf sighed.

            Leon’s scaly brow furrowed for a moment, his long fingers drumming against his triangular maw.  Tail curling and uncurling in thought, the lizard turned to face him.  Wolf’s violet eye narrowed suspiciously at the Venomian.  Leon’s eyes drifted to his own feet, kicking lightly at the metallic wall near the window.  He pensively scratched behind his striped neck. 

  
            _Looking at him now, you’d never guess he was as dangerous as he really is._

            “What?” Wolf finally asked.

            “I have an idea,” Leon timidly admitted.

            “Dunno if I should be scared or relieved…” Wolf said apprehensively.

            “The training area is usually deserted around this time,” Leon explained. “Some sparring will tire you out.”

            “It’s not really a physical sort of thing, Leon, it’s more up here,” Wolf explained, pointing at his temple.

            “Fighting isn’t entirely about the body.  It’s about the mind, too,” Leon shook his head. “Please, let’s give it a try.”

            Wolf scratched his chin with a claw, ears back. “Well, since you asked so _nicely…_ I guess I can’t say no.”  He could not contain his smirk, feeling it curl its way onto his muzzle.  Leon’s eyes brightened up and he felt his smirk broaden into a grin. 

            The duo made their way towards the elevator again.  A collective, booming cheer from upstairs caused Wolf to glance at the ceiling as they stepped into the elevator.   The button to the 3rd floor brimmed to life as Leon pecked it with a slender finger.  He made his way to the back wall of the elevator, lingering a few feet from Wolf’s right shoulder.  The lizard leaned against the smooth silver rail, arms crossed.  Most would have found the ride uncomfortable but Wolf did not.  He let that soft, familiar quiet overlap their co-existence in that tiny metal box.  He focused in on one of his claws, picking at it until the elevator slowed to a stop.  A chime heralded their arrival.  The doors parted to reveal an empty corridor.  Leon stepped out, tossing a hasty look at Wolf to make sure he was following. 

            Down the hallway they went, passing by numerous rooms and branching corridors.  His keen ears flitted about to see if they were alone.  His black nose gave a twitch, scenting nothing but Leon and the lifelessness of metal.  Wolf carried on behind the slender assassin, tucking his hands into the pockets of his ragged grey pants.  They navigated the labyrinthine interior of halls until they stood before the thick metal doors leading into the training grounds.  Usually this sort of area would be home to people engaging into target practice simulations but 3 a.m. had left it devoid of a single soul.  Leon daintily retrieved his cardkey from his pocket and swiped in.  A light over the door brimmed a vibrant green and the door slid open. 

             They stepped from the door and into the vast open training facility.  The entrance had been fashioned to give people entering the facility a broad overview of all the places they could train.  They stood on a railed walkway above a massive gym room.  A few mats for melee combat were lined in neat rows.  A few racks had been bolted to the wall.  They had a wide spectrum of practice weapons – fake swords, a few padded rods, and handguards to name a mere fraction.  Wolf admitted inwardly that he was a tad rusty at martial arts.  Running missions felt smoother when he never had to get out of his Wolfen.  He tossed a look over at Leon, eye scanning the reptile’s slender form, which was scarcely masked at all in his form-fitting turtleneck sweater.  Leon had never gained a pound in the years they had known each other but Wolf did not doubt his second-in-command had been keeping up with his assassin training regimen this entire time. 

            Beyond that, along the far wall was another set of security doors—where the blaster training was held.  Leon descended from the walkway and towards the mats.  He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows.  Wolf marveled for a moment at his colorful tattoos, which blended well into his leafy green scales. They were yellow as the sun and red as blood, frosted with white for a purity that Leon did not know.  The canine could easily lose himself in the intricate pattern, so utterly detailed in its swirls, dots, and ridges that each time he saw them, he felt like he found a new detail within them.  The ink rolled over his arms in a seamless fashion, accenting his muscle.

            “What is it?” Leon asked, catching his stare with a quizzical eyebrow raise.

            “Nothing,” Wolf said quickly, stripping out of his colorful violet and pink jacket.  The lizard turned away quickly but Wolf caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile crossing his triangular snout.

_Subtle as a kick in the teeth._  

            With a smug scoff, Wolf tossed the jacket aside. He felt cold wearing only a tank top but knew the exertion of fighting would soon change that.  A few scars had been carved into his torso but his thick slate-hued fur covered them for the most part.  Out of habit, he touched the band that strapped his new advanced eyepatch—a fortunate swipe from Lionheart Corps’ main headquarters at Macbeth.  It concealed his maimed eye perfectly, the sensors from it could bypass most of the damage he had sustained to make the eye more or less somewhat functional.  His peripherals were still foggy and though he had tried to explain it to their resident tech whiz, the response he had received was confusing at best.  All of this jargon about “stimulating retinas” and the like was mind-boggling to him so he just let the professionals do their work.

            “How does it feel?” Leon asked.

            “Still gettin’ used to it,” Wolf admitted. “Don’t go easy on me, though.”

            “I would never,” Leon smirked.  He tossed a look at the rack. “Want a weapon?”

            “I’d probably clobber myself in the head before I clobbered you,” Wolf shrugged.  He slipped off his boots, setting them next to his jacket.  Leon did the same, his smirk taking a particularly long while to fade.

            Wolf stepped out onto the mat, his bared feet feeling the cold of the floor beneath him.  He gave it a test hop, feeling his weight sink in on impact.  The canine bounced up and down a few times before he settled back onto the mat.  Curiously, he glanced at Leon, who was watching him with folded arms.

            “Comin’?” Wolf asked.

            Leon smiled and stepped onto the mat with the elegance of flowing water.  His movements were languid but Wolf was not fooled; the reptile calculated everything he did.  Every sigh, every blink, every breath.  Leon’s shoulders were lax, his posture stooping.  Wolf watched his legs, taking note of how balanced he kept each stride.  It was foolish to assume the reptile was not ready to kick into combat mode.

            “We should put on guards,” Leon suggested.

            “Too much effort.  Besides, we don’t need ‘em,” Wolf retorted brashly.

            “Wolf…” Leon began.

            “I think we know how to make sure no one gets hurt,” Wolf replied.

            “This feels like a bad idea,” Leon commented.  His lax position shifted into a battle stance, his knees slightly bent.  He raised his hands, fingers curling into small fists. “But I won’t ignore an order.”

            “Good.  Wouldn’t wanna have to throw ya in the brig for disobedience,” Wolf chuckled.  He readied himself, bringing his hands up at the ready.

            “If you could catch me, that is,” Leon replied.  His tail unfurled, whipping with anticipation.  The stripes near his eyes seemed to brighten with every passing second, brimming as vivid as sunbeams through a forest canopy.

_Cheeky.  He knows I like prey that talks back.  It makes it more fun to win._

            Leon lunged forward, lashing out with a kick to Wolf’s left.  Muscle memory caused Wolf’s arm to raise, catching Leon’s ankle with his forearm.  When the next kick came, Wolf was ready, solidifying his stance and lashing out to grab at Leon’s collar.  His claws missed by half an inch, singing through the air next to the fabric.  The reptile twisted away, sending a third, stifled kick Wolf’s direction that did not even have a hope of making contact.  Wolf surged forward at the reptile while his back was to the canine.  He pulled back a hand into a fist.  Leon turned deftly, ducking low to the ground and kicking out at Wolf’s knees.  The canine fell, catching himself on his forearms and quickly rolling onto his back.  Leon’s shadow fell upon him as he leapt down to crash atop Wolf’s chest.  The canine rolled away, hooking Leon’s shin with a foot and pulling his thin leg out from under him.  A gasp tore from the Venomian as he collided into the bouncy mat.

            As Wolf recovered, so did Leon.  The two faced each other, Wolf mouth agape with a soft pant.  Leon smiled.  It lasted for a mere second and then the mat shook with their charges.  The Venomian ducked low under one of Wolf’s strikes but the canine sent his knee upwards into the lizard’s jaw.  Leon fell backwards, rolling bum-over-head and resting in a crouched position.  One of his thin fingers traced his own jawline, wincing slightly.

            “Did that hurt?” Wolf asked.  He held his hands in front of him still, sharpened claws exposed. 

            “A bit,” Leon confessed. “But not as much as I thought it would.”

            “I can change that,” Wolf threatened and Leon flashed him a toothy, mirthful grin.  The canine ran in, swiping at Leon’s face with his claws.  The lizard made it around the charging canine in two steps, lashing out with his tail.  Wolf tripped over it, fumbling forward a step.  Leon pounced on top of him, wrapping an arm around Wolf’s neck.

            “Oho!” Wolf managed to squeeze out despite Leon’s firm chokehold.  He threw himself onto his back, crushing the lithe lizard between his body and the mat.  Leon gasped for air and Wolf rolled off of him the moment he felt the lizard’s grip loosen.  He turned and was upon Leon in a moment, knocking him down as he tried to get back up. 

            They wrestled—hands meeting hands.  Teeth gnashed.  Soft growls emitted from the two.  A lock of white fringe fell in Wolf’s face as he looked down at Leon.  The lizard lashed out with a foot to Wolf’s stomach but all the canine did was collapse onto the assassin’s chest.  He could feel Leon try to push him off, but Wolf persisted, grabbing Leon’s collar.  Leon wrest Wolf’s grip off of him, sending a second, more forceful kick.  Wolf fell back from the impact, grabbing his stomach with a hand.  Leon whipped to his feet.  Wolf struggled to get back into a crouching position.  The Venomian launched himself at the recovering canine.

            Wolf dodged to the side out of desperation, scrambling to his feet.  Leon did the same as soon as his momentum had ceased, turning to face his opponent.  They charged in again.  Wolf felt his limbs move, his body corresponding to Leon’s movements without second thought.  As Leon missed his initial punch, Wolf caught his elbow, throwing his weight fully forward into the Venomian.  Leon fell back and Wolf fell on top of him—this time, incredibly intentional.  One hand pinned Leon’s chest down.  His knees rested on the lizard’s stomach. 

            “Lucky… hit…” Leon said from beneath the canine.  His thin body squirmed, feet scrapping fruitlessly against the mat. 

            “Heh, and you thought I couldn’t catch you,” Wolf remarked.  He grinned, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he was panting heavily from the exertion.  His tapped his claws down the side of Leon’s neck. “Maybe I _oughta_ throw you in the brig.  A night in chains might humble ya.”

            “If you want,” Leon replied quietly, not breaking eye contact. “You _are_ the Lord of Sargasso after all.”

            “You’re not wrong.”

            “It’d be ironic… I broke you out of Chasma Penitentiary and you’re threatening to lock me up…” Leon remarked. “You don’t seem very grateful.”

            “You’re not still holding that over my head, are ya?” Wolf asked.

            “I will hold that over your head _forever_ ,” Leon chuckled—a strangely pure and gleeful sound.

            Wolf’s fur seemed to burn wherever it made contact with Leon’s fragile body.  The reptile stopped struggling, staring upward at his leader with changing emotion glassing over his vivid eyes.  His stripes seemed to dull in their yellow.  Like Wolf, his adrenaline was wearing off and his body sank into the mat with a defeated sigh. 

            “How _did_ you ever break me out of that prison?” Wolf asked the reptile, the words flowing effortlessly from his mouth without second thought. 

            “Heh, you fight better than those Cornerian goons,” Leon remarked.  His eyes skirted the canine up and down.  Wolf tried to pretend like he did not like it.  He failed.

            “Good thing for the both of us, I guess,” Wolf smirked.  “Damn.  That feels like forever ago.”

            “We have… seen a lot since then,” Leon agreed. 

“Yeah… we have,” Wolf answered thoughtfully.

            The air in the room changed.  The canine felt something flutter in his chest.  Immediately, Wolf O’Donnell did everything he could to swallow it down.  It defiantly lingered.  Fear began to ignite his heart, its burn searing his veins.  They were flirting with that topic that they had never discussed -- not after all these years.  Wolf had been fine with never talking about it— _feelings_ only muddled what was cut and dry.  And when one was on the run from the Cornerian government, they did not need any more complications. 

_Those pining looks.  I tried my best to ignore them, I really did.  I’ve been down that road too many times.  I know where it leads.  Never anywhere good.  A few flings?  That’s one thing.  But committed relationships?  We can’t live like that.  Our line of work is too dangerous for attachments…_

            But wasn’t it already too late at this point?  The truth was there, staring him in the face.  Those burning eyes could see through him as though he were clear as glass.  His heart skipped a beat when he felt Leon move beneath him, adjusting his position to found some amount of comfort even as Wolf continued to pin him to the mat. 

            Inwardly, the canine chastised himself.  Heat burned at his cheeks.  He looked away.  Perhaps, if he bottled _those_ thoughts up, they would somehow become less real.  If he thought the confession, then it would be real.  If he ignored it, perhaps that flutter in his heart would die away.  Perhaps that inward longing would be erased…

            “So, am I getting to spend the night in the brig?” Leon asked, cutting through Wolf’s heavy cloud of thought.

            “It’s no fun if you don’t protest,” Wolf shook his head.  He abruptly rose from the ground to let his second-in-command up.

            Leon stood, his scrutinizing look digging deep into that shield Wolf had always put up, even around his own teammates.  The canine could feel it fracturing, torn between desire and cold reality.  He was a man that so often acted on impulse but the thought of Leon’s pining eyes made him give pause.  Logic was lost as to why that was the case.  Perhaps there was something different about this than about a one-time thing?  Wolf nearly choked at the thought, his heart fluttering. 

            “Wolf… what is it?” Leon asked.

            “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Wolf said despite the words tripping over each other shakily on their way out. 

            _Life would be so much easier without emotions._

            “Too late for that,” Leon said. 

            “Don’t worry.  That’s an order,” Wolf responded with shaky resolve.

            _Where did I expect this to go?  A sparring match at 3 a.m.?  This is only fueling that thing that I don’t want to talk about.  That thing that will only end badly.  That thing I never want to think about._

            “Wolf…” Leon’s voice was a ghost of a whisper.

            _I want to say yes.  I want to throw caution into the wind.  I’m restless because everything is bottled.  Paranoia.  Anger.  My feelings for Leon—_ It sounded weird to even internally verbalize it. _I’d like to think I could keep this up forever but I’m running out of stamina.  Again, life would be so much easier without emotions._

            Leon’s hands took him by surprise, reaching out to cup the sides of Wolf’s face.  The Venomian drew Wolf’s attention away from the blank space he had been staring into, until he was forced to look into Leon’s fiery irises. 

            _We can’t have this.  We can want it all we want, but in the end, it’ll kill us._

            He did not feel the reptile guide his face closer.  Wolf blinked and their noses were nearly within an inch from each other.  Another blink and he felt their mouths touch.  It was soft at first, then firm. Warmth spilled from Leon’s mouth into his. Instinct told Wolf to wrap his arms around Leon’s thin body and so he did—bringing the lizard closer even though a part of him was inwardly screaming to stop.

            Wolf O’Donnell did not stop.  Even as Leon carefully pulled away, the canine’s grip around the Venomian was maintained.  Passion drove Wolf’s claws into the fabric of Leon’s shirt.  Imprisoning his impulses was always something he had never excelled at but he did his best to not claw holes into the reptile’s clothes.  He held Leon, their eyes lingering for a moment before the second kiss came—this time, from Wolf.  His neck arched as he rocked into the reptile, pulling him close with a firm grip.

_Leon was pining all this time… and maybe I was too.  I just didn’t want to admit it.  I just didn’t want it to get in the way of our jobs.  Why was I so afraid all this time?  In this moment right now, it doesn’t make any sense why I held back…_

            “You’re shaking,” Leon commented after he pulled away.  Something about his tone sounded a blend of intrigued, hurt, and concerned.  Wolf was not sure what he should have been.  The Venomian’s hand found Wolf’s chin again. “Are you well?”

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Wolf said brusquely, knowing his emotions had tightened into a chaotic tangle that had no hope of being tamed.  His fear reawakened, doubt pouring into his thoughts like poison.

_What am I doing?  What have I done?_

            “Good,” Leon smiled and swept his leg into Wolf’s knees.  The canine collapsed in an instant, falling onto his butt. 

            “Wha--!?” Wolf exclaimed, bouncing up and down as the mat took the impact of his fall.  Leon was instantly on top of him, pushing against his chest.

            “I win,” Leon grinned toothily at the canine.

            “That’s… that’s not fair!” Wolf sputtered, laying on his back as the reptile sat atop his stomach with a triumphant glimmer in his eyes.

            “You know life isn’t fair, Wolf,” Leon replied.  His voice softened.  It was uncharacteristic of him but not unwelcome. “But I am… most glad that despite everything, we are together to face it all.”

            _Together…?_

The word made him fear.  It made him gleeful.  It made him a convoluted mess of everything he tried to stifle.  He choked up on the spot; melting as he stared up at the lizard.  If there was a part of him still screaming “no, no, no, don’t do this to yourself”, then it had gone silent.  It had given way to that pining urge he had been suppressing for years. 

            Wolf snaked an arm around the assassin’s hips and pulled him off of his stomach.  The lizard flopped onto the ground next to the infamous Lord of Sargasso, crimson eyes wide in surprise.  Thoughts a mess, Wolf struggled to decipher what would be best to say next.  Leon was not the first of his subordinates to pursue him romantically in his career of banditry and piracy.  And now, they were ghosts, lost in the cold abyss of space and death.  Wolf still remembered their faces—he still _felt_ how warm they were when they had been together.  When he closed his eyes, he prayed he would never see Leon that way.  He prayed he would never have to attend his funeral.  Without thinking, his hand’s grip on Leon’s waist tightened.

            _If I encourage this… is this his death sentence?  Is it mine?_

            “Wolf?” Leon asked.  Wolf hated how much he loved the way his name sounded on the lizard’s tongue.  He hated how much he loved the taste of Leon’s tongue.

            They lay next to each other.  Wolf felt one of Leon’s hands trail along his collarbone.  The canine’s fixed stare never moved from the lizard’s face.  In those crimson eyes, he saw uncertainty.  He saw lust.  He saw a hungering beast.  The tips of Leon’s fingers sized up Wolf’s chest, feeling the muscle and grooves beneath his thick fur.  Leon nibbled his lower lip with thought as his hand slid around the back of Wolf’s head.  Wolf blinked and missed the lizard’s approach, feeling Leon’s mouth upon his again.  It was soothing—a piece of serenity that calmed those lingering remnants of the raging storm.

_I shouldn’t… but when was the last time I ever did anything I should do?_

            Leon’s tongue danced over the canine’s muzzle.  Wolf felt the lizard press into his mouth—more passionately this time.  Wolf let the lizard’s tongue work its way into his mouth, feeling his heart flutter for a moment with exhilaration.  He rolled on top of the Venomian, arching his back.  His hands wandered once more—cupping the sides of Leon’s head, fingers caressing down his scaled neck.  Leon’s hands locked around Wolf’s waist, bringing him close to him.  Pressing down onto the lizard’s smaller body igniting fire in Wolf’s veins.  His claws lightly raked Leon’s upper back, hard enough for the pinned lizard to feel how sharp they were.  Leon squirmed under him but it was a pleasured, fluid motion—coupled with the rocking of his hips into Wolf’s. 

            Leon’s hands found their way under Wolf’s shirt.  They combed through the white fur of his stomach, climbing their way to his broad chest.  His fingers dug deep, past Wolf’s undercoat and to his skin.  He felt their touch like sparks from a wildfire—felt them as they brushed past his nipples.  Wolf felt a gasp tear from his mouth—a gasp that was abruptly silenced by Leon forcing his mouth upon Wolf’s.

            “Wait… wait,” Wolf said between kisses.  He tried to pull away from Leon’s eager maw.  “We… we need to talk…”

            Leon stopped immediately, head cocking to the side.  There was quiet fear in his eyes.  Was it a fear of having messed up?  Wolf hoped not.  He backed up off of Leon, plopping down next to him.  Leon sat up, tucking his legs close to his thin body and resting his feet underneath his bum.  He sheepishly stared at the ground ahead of him, swallowing down what must have been a massive glob of spittle. 

            Wolf took in a deep breath.  Once, he had been a man who had tossed around sex and love casually.  But this was different than his typical flings.  This was

“If we do this… You could be in danger.  There’s a lot of people that want me dead,” Wolf warned Leon.

            Quiet.  Wolf’s heard his own heartbeat in his ears—louder than drums.  Eternity passed them.  The silence was deafening and Wolf felt the adrenaline in his veins seep away.  Now that the rush was over, he understood there was no going back to what once was.  He could try to deny fate.  He could try to deny his feelings.  But that would change nothing.  It would not change the hungering way Leon looked at him.  It would not change the growing need Wolf had to pin the lizard back down and continue their make out session.  Denying everything… was futile. 

            Wolf smiled.  The freedom felt… nice.  Terrifying.  But _nice_.

            “Your bounty posters are next to mine,” Leon finally said, looking at him. “I am already at risk.”

            “But…” Wolf began.  It just was not the same.  Emotional attachments on display meant that weaknesses were on display.  And Wolf _loathed_ that thought. 

            _I don’t want anything to happen to you._

            He tried to will the words out but he was too weak.  Too _stubborn_.  He just stared at Leon, praying the emotion in his violet eye would give his intentions away. 

            “We could take it slow,” Leon whispered to him. “No one would have to know.  Not even Panther.”

            “I didn’t say anything about goin’ slow,” Wolf retorted, focusing his attention out at the empty room around them.  “Besides, we’ve already kissed.  Didn’t we skip hand-holding?”

            “You could say I held your hand when I broke you out of prison,” Leon pointed out.  There was the beginning of a sly smirk on his mouth. 

            “Holding my wrists _behind my_ _back_ while I was handcuffed doesn’t mean _shit_ , Leon,” Wolf shot back but laughed anyways.

            “Oh.  Well…” Leon grabbed Wolf’s hand, interlocking his fingers. “How about this?”

            “You’re ridiculous,” Wolf snorted.  He felt his cheeks flush warm, his skin savoring the touch between his fur and Leon’s scaled fingers.

            “How do you feel?” Leon asked, dragging his gaze to meet Wolf’s.  “About…” His words died off.  It seemed even he was having difficulty verbalizing it. 

            “I was scared,” Wolf admitted.  He had never been good with words.  Maybe he should stop trying to pretend he was.  “But now… I’m not.”

            Leon nodded, shifting his position.  He stretched his feet out, wiggling his toes.  Wolf could tell something was on his mind.  It glassed over his eyes, stirring at the tip of his tongue.  The canine watched the lizard stir upon it for a few long minutes before he finally broke.

            “What is it?” Wolf asked. 

            “All these years… What… what changed?” Leon asked quietly.

            “You’re the one that started kissin’ me!” Wolf remarked, ears pulling back.

            “And then _you_ kissed _me,_ ” Leon pointed out.

            _He’s got me there._

Wolf sighed, leaning back and stretching out his legs next to Leon’s.  If he was honest, he could not put his finger on what had sparked the change.  He gave a lax, casual shrug.  Emotions complicated everything.  Who was to say what had changed his mind about pursuing a relationship with Leon?  Maybe it was what he drank that night?  Maybe it was that restlessness that was eating away at him?  Maybe he was just tired of holding himself back—tired of giving in to fear and living looking over his shoulder.  Maybe…

            “Dunno,” Wolf shrugged again and when Leon seemed dissatisfied with that, he added, “You know I’m not great with words.” 

            “Hmph.  You can be,” Leon disagreed.  “But if you don’t want to say… then maybe that is fine.”

            “It’s just hard to put into words,” Wolf replied, albeit a tad sheepishly.

            “Then… do not worry about it,” Leon shook his head. “Do not worry about words.”

            “Why did you kiss me?” Wolf asked suddenly, his brows furrowed.

            Leon seemed taken aback. “It… seemed right at the time.  Was I…” Fear made his voice falter. “…wrong…?”

            “No,” Wolf said hastily—perhaps _too_ hastily.  Leon’s mouth twisted into a smirk and one of Wolf’s ears moved to the side. “Don’t gimme that look.”

            “Do you… want to continue, then?” Leon asked.

            “Continue…?” Wolf began.  Leon reached out, his soft caress on the canine’s leg causing the back of Wolf’s nape to prickle.  “Oh.  Well, I’m certainly better than that than words.”

            “Are you?” Leon asked quietly.

            “I’ve been told,” Wolf shrugged.

            “Then… perhaps I shall be the judge of that,” Leon replied, a small smile crossing his maw as he slid into Wolf’s lap, embracing him tightly.  Their noses touched and then their mouths followed.  Breathless gasps between kisses kept the silence at bay.  Quiet euphoria overcame them, found in the tender strokes of their hands and in the soft moans that escaped their lips.  They blotted out the outside—existing together only in that cold gym room, where the heat of their bodies kept them warm and the party upstairs obliviously raged on.


End file.
